By Duane Johnson
Â
It was a dark moonless night in northern France in early December. The cold wind coming off the Atlantic was strong with a spiting of snow squalls intermittently occurring. The wet ground was beginning to freeze and patches of white areas were forming in the protected spots. Our unit was in a resting mood for the night.
We mustered early the next morning to advance our line to the northeast. Our progress seemed…
Partner Ads By Google
